Because She’s Donna!
by Specter-Paulsen
Summary: Donna’s dating and Harvey’s not happy. A fic I wrote before s8. RE-POST.


**A/N: This is a little something that I had hopes for in season 8. *shrug***

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Harvey was climbing out of his Lexus when a swath of red hair caught his eye. He was so attuned to her that he could spot her from a mile away. On this particular morning she was clad in a bright blue pea coat, stepping out of a car on the opposite corner. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the tall, dark stranger rounding the rear of the vehicle and sweeping her into his arms. He watched as they kissed, the man leaning down to meet her mouth, even in her 5 inch Louboutins. As they parted he whispered something to her and the breeze caught her musical laughter, carrying it across the street to Harvey's ears. They kissed again and then he turned and Harvey caught his face for the first time. He wasn't a stranger at all. That was Thomas Kessler; a client. He felt his hands curl reflexively and made a conscious effort to straighten them. Donna was crossing the street now, headed into the building via the door on the opposite corner from where he was standing. He slammed the car door behind him and strode across the sidewalk.

"Donna," he greeted as he sidled up next to her at the elevator.

"Harvey," she replied, matching his tone. Neither spoke more until they were inside the elevator, alone, for some inexplicable reason.

"So… you and Kessler," Harvey began casually, hoping to catch her by surprise. He was rewarded with her head snapping toward him, eyebrows raised.

"How did you — yes, Thomas and I are seeing one another."

"When did that start?"

"A month or so ago."

"Well. Good for you." He knew his response was stilted, but he couldn't think of anything better to say, and the lump in his throat wasn't helping.

"Thank you." He response was quiet, muted. Neither spoke again as the elevator ascended.

"Donna's dating someone," Harvey blurted out before he'd even fully settled into Lipschitz's couch.

"You say that like it's a problem," Stan replied in his gentle accent.

"Of course it's a problem! He's a client. She has a rule about getting involved with men she works with."

"I see." Stan scribbled something in his notebook. "And has she ever broken this rule before?"

"What's that got to do with— " he stopped, sighing heavily. "Yes, she has. Once."

"And how did you react that time?"

"Well he turned out to be a murderer so it's not really the same."

"Forgive me, Harvey, but I think it's exactly the same."

"It's really not. Huntley was a criminal and a murderer."

"But you didn't know that until later. So your original reaction is still relevant." Stan's unfailing calm was annoying on occasion, and Harvey was beginning to feel that this may be one of those times. He didn't speak, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Stan took another route. "Let's look at this another way. Why does it bother you that she's broken her rule?"

"Because she's Donna." The response explained everything to him, but as soon as it left his lips he realised how lame it sounded.

"Are you angry because she never broke this rule for you?" The question was unnecessary as both men in the room already knew the answer.

"I'm not angry."

"You seem angry. Would you like to tell me why?"

"I'm not. I'm just… " he paused, trying to find a way out of the line of questioning and naturally the therapist picked up on it.

"You're uncomfortable talking about this, I can see. Why?"

"Because it's Donna."

"I see." Stan didn't mention the repetition of the phrase but said nothing else and Harvey felt the pressure to continue the conversation.

"She's… a difficult topic."

"And why is that, Harvey?"

"Because she is, all right?"

"You mention her quite often in our sessions. She's never seemed like a difficult topic before."

"That's different."

"Yes, it is." Stan looked over the top of his glasses at Harvey and the lawyer sighed. "If you don't want to talk about her, we don't have to talk about her. But it was you who brought her up when you came in here, and that tells me that you want to talk about her, even subconsciously."

"You probably already know everything about her from Louis." Harvey was being petulant, he knew, trappen into a corner by his own words and actions.

"You know I can't disclose what Louis and I discuss. So why don't you tell me about Donna. Start from the beginning."

38 minutes later, the session was almost over and Harvey finally stopped talking. Dr Lipschitz had nodded and made assenting sounds throughout, but had yet to provide any insight or advice. When Harvey finally stopped, taking in a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh, the therapist removed his glasses, wiping them with a cloth from his pocket before replacing them.

"Harvey, it is clear to me that the relationship you have with Donna is dysfunctional. It is co-dependent, in some ways familial and in others as far from familial as it could be. I believe there are a lot of unsaid words between you, and until those words are said, you will never get closure."

"Closure? You want me to let her go?"

"You want her to be happy, no?"

"Yes, but…" he swallowed the words that had almost spilled out, the words he'd never uttered out loud.

"But what, Harvey?"

"Nothing. Yes, I want her to be happy."

"But you want her to be happy with _you_." And with that, Stan Lipschitz had hit the nail square on the head. A wave of relief washed over Harvey, hearing someone say the thing he'd avoided verbalising for the better part of a decade. It must have showed on his face, because Stan continued speaking. "You need to tell her how you feel, Harvey. Bottling your feelings will never end well. But I must warn you to be prepared for her answer. It may not be exactly what you desire."

Harvey had asked Ray to drop him off a few blocks from the firm, so he could walk back, needing the air to clear his head. He strode into the building, his head still swimming with thoughts of Donna, their relationship, and what he was feeling. He had to pass her office to get to his own and he was disappointed to find it empty, the object of his "attention and affection" (as a certain ex-therapist/girlfriend had put it) likely off saving someone from themselves or kicking ass at a myriad of other potential tasks. It was two hours later when he finally saw her, when she drifted into his office as night was falling over the city.

"I was looking for you earlier," he remarked before she could speak.

"Oh? You need something?" She asked, ever the professional. He couldn't help but watch her lips as she spoke, her mouth saying more than just the words. That he knew exactly what that mouth could do, remembered vividly how those lips tasted, how they felt on his skin, wrapped around him, pliable under his own mouth. He wanted to kiss her, perhaps more than he ever had. More than he'd wanted to the first night in her apartment, or a few years ago in that same location, more than he wanted to kiss her back that night in her office or the next night when they fought in the lobby. He shook himself out his thoughts in order to reply to her question.

"No, nothing important." He moved toward his scotch tray. "You want a drink?"

"I'd love one, thanks, Harvey." She sat on the couch as he poured the drinks and he thanked whatever god was smiling down on him in that moment - whichever entity it was that had her accepting his invitation instead of going out with Thomas Kessler that night.

They'd been talking, laughing, flirting — exactly as they always had, and he was overwhelmed with it. After his session with Lipschitz, all he could think about through the evening was how he wanted to tell her. He watched as she sipped her drink, her eyes shining, the city lights framing her through the window. He was overwhelmed again by the desire to kiss her, to throw everything aside and take her in his arms. But as soon as the thought entered his head, it was gone, shut down by the part of his brain that stored the pain his mother had caused. He couldn't interfere with her relationship like that.

"I want to kiss you," he blurted out suddenly. "I'm not going to because you're with…" he trailed off, unable to say the man's name, "but I want to. I've wanted to for a while. And it's not going away."

Donna gaped at him, the admission taking her aback, a confession she never expected to hear from him. She recovered herself slower than she'd have liked, feeling her thoughts slip back into place like puzzle pieces of a ten thousand piece jigsaw, the image slowly taking shape. She felt the shock first, then a building heat she couldn't describe, then a wave of lust that made her angry, and finally the pieces all fit together and she was fuming. "What do you expect me to say to that, Harvey?"

"I don't know, Donna." He was angry now too, frustrated by her response, unsure what he had expected but knowing that wasn't it. "I just needed to say it."

"You needed to say it? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Like you 'needed to know' last year? You can't be pissed at me for this, when you did _that_."

"I can be pissed and I am. Precisely because I did that and the way you reacted is why I _can_ be pissed at you right now." She stood fast, smoothing her dress back into place, covering the hint of lace-topped stocking he'd been eyeing all night. "You're a hypocrite." And she was gone, striding down the hall, leaving him staring after her and cursing Dr Lipschitz.

He didn't see her at all the next day. He suspected she was avoiding him, and he was frustrated by it.

"I did the right thing, I didn't kiss her," he mumbled to himself as he passed her empty office for the third time that day.

When he found her office empty _again _the next morning, he was fed up. So he called.

"What can I do for you, Harvey?" She answered, professionalism dripping from every word. He hated the detachment.

"Where are you?"

"Is there something specific you need?"

"You. In your office. Working."

"As you well know, Harvey, I don't report to you any more. I report to Louis, and he's aware of exactly where I am and what I'm doing."

"Donna…" he heard the plea in his own voice and the sharp intake of breath on her end of the line. He knew exactly where her mind had gone, because his had done the same.

_Donna…. please._

"I'm working from home," she said after a momentary silence. "I had a electrician wiring some new lights in my bathroom yesterday and he didn't finish the job so he's coming back today."

"Oh." He had no answer for that. Silence fell again and he could hear a light tapping on her end and knew she was fiddling with a pen; her nervous habit. He didn't like that he was making her feel that way. "Can we talk?"

"Now isn't really a good time."

"Then when?"

"I don't know, Harvey," she sighed. "Tomorrow? When I'm back in the office?"

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly.

It wasn't until the evening that they were able to talk. She'd been busy all day in associate interviews, and when she finally dropped onto the couch in his office, she wasn't in the mood to have the conversation that was coming.

"Do we have to do this now?" she asked. "I've had a long day."

"We don't _have _to do anything," he replied, taken aback.

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a petulant child."

"Fine," he scoffed. "Go if you want."

"Look what you've done, Harvey! Look at what we've become."

"What?" He cocked his head, genuinely confused at her words and the direction the conversation had taken.

"You've changed us. What you said can't be unsaid."

"Plenty of things have been said and ignored in the last fourteen years, Donna."

"This isn't the same."

"How is it not the same?"

"Because you wanted to kiss me!"

"But I _didn't _kiss you."

"You may as well have! It has the same effect on a relationship, Harvey, I can't believe you don't realise that!"

"I did the right thing! I stopped myself from doing it."

"But you shouldn't have said it. Saying it is the same thing as doing it."

The thought was in his head and he was acting on it before he could stop himself. His hands were on her waist and his mouth was covering hers before he even knew what he was doing. Her arms had come to automatically rest along his, her hands gripping his elbows as he kissed her with bruising intensity, sucking her top lip between his. The taste of her after so long was like finding an oasis in a desert. He couldn't get enough, her warm body under his hands and her soft mouth tasting sweet and delicious. The instant her lips began to move against his, he pulled away. They gazed at one another for a moment and then without a word, he walked away. He could feel an erection stirring and he knew he had to leave before he did something truly stupid. He went straight to the elevator and left the building.

It was later when he was in the shower, jerking off to the thought of her lips under his that he felt the self-loathing creep in. His hand slowed on his cock, the image of fiery hair, soft curves and moist lips fading into one of tension, anger and hurt. He dropped his dick, watching it bob pathetically, feeling anger at himself spread through his body. It only served to heighten every sensation, and when his fist brushed his cock again, a hiss escaped him, his erection springing back to full solidity. He gripped it again, squeezing hard and then beginning rapid, aggressive strokes, skirting the line between pleasure and pain as he masturbated furiously. He came with an animal grunt, continuing the movement of his hand until he felt real pain, letting out a yell of frustration and anger as he finally let his organ fall from his hand, swinging limply between his thighs. He braced himself against the tiled wall, staring at the floor, watching his cum circling the drain. He breathed hard, wanting to hit something. He turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, the fibres caressing his still sensitive dick. He strode barefoot to the living room, pouring a heavy measure of scotch into a glass and downing it in one before repeating the action. After the fifth glass, he collapsed onto his mattress and waited for the alcohol to do its job.

The next morning, he took the long way to his office, the way that didn't force him to pass hers. Fighting a furious hangover, he demanded his secretary schedule meetings out of the office for the day, and less than thirty minutes later, he was in the descending elevator. He couldn't bear to face her, shame at what he had done overwhelming him. That coupled with his hangover had him irritable for the rest of the day, and by the time all of his meetings were done, he was just plain exhausted.

When he arrived back in the office, darkness was falling and he was sure she had left for the day. So he was surprised to find her in his office, waiting.

"How long have you been there?" He asked when he found her behind his desk.

"Long enough," she replied.

"You're mad," he deduced. She hesitated and then shook her head slightly.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm confused. What happened last night?"

"You were there," he replied stubbornly.

"Harvey."

"What do you want me to say, Donna?"

"I don't know. I feel like I don't know you anymore. Of all people, you are the one I never had to worry about, you would never have been the one to put me in this position. You _kissed _me, Harvey. While I'm in a relationship. That isn't you. What's going on?"

The concern in her voice threw him off and he snapped, the anger he felt at himself exploding. "I don't give a shit whether it's "me" or not. I don't give a shit about what my mother did. I don't give a shit about your relationship. I fucking _love _you, Donna, and nothing else matters compared to that." He watched as her face changed, the concern fading fast as her eyes sparked. There were tears building and he took a half step toward her before realising he was reading her all wrong.

"Fuck you, Harvey," she spat the words at him. "You're right, you _don't _give a shit. You've never given a shit about anything or anyone but yourself. You had the nerve to treat me the way you did last year, and then turn around and do the exact same thing. I don't _want _this, do you hear me? I don't want you!" A silence fell, the two of them staring across the room at one another, tension in the air.

"Then why did you kiss me back?" His voice was soft, and he took a step toward her, then another, closing the space between them until he was close enough to kiss her again.

"How dare you." Despite her venomous words, her voice trembled, affected by his proximity in a way she was trying extremely hard to ignore. He knew, because he'd done it before. For _years _he'd tried to ignore the way she made him feel, but his body's physical reaction to her had always betrayed him. He sensed she was having the same problem now.

"You kissed me back, Donna. Just like I kissed you back last year. And I can't go on pretending neither of us felt anything." He ran the tip of his finger along the edge of her palm, testing her. "Can you?"

"Harvey," she whispered, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth, her fingers curling in response to his hand touching hers. Her eyes flickered closed and her lips parted reflexively, anticipating his kiss.

"Tell me you want this," he said in a low voice, searching her face, looking for resistance. Her eyes opened again, searching his, and he felt his heartbeat speed up, anxiety building in his chest as he waited for her to say no. Instead she leaned in, brushing his lips with hers, testing, tasting. He wound an arm around her waist, pulling her to him, their bodies flush as he returned the kiss with fervor, sucking at her lips like his life depended on it. With his other hand he cradled her head, kissing her deeply as her tongue flicked out to meet his, stroking sensuously inside of his mouth. He felt her hands move to his waistband, pulling his shirt from his pants, her warm hands finding skin as she gripped his waist.

He was growing hard and he knew she could feel it as she rocked her hips against his. When a low whimper escaped her, he pulled back, his eyes meeting hers as their chests heaved with mutual desire. They gazed at one another for a moment before their lips crashed together again, more fervent and desperate than before. Her hands were everywhere; in his hair, under his shirt, on his back. He crushed her to his body, tongues tangling, low moans escaping them, interspersed with the wet smacking of their lips.

"Fuck, Harvey," she rasped as their lips parted and he began to trail kisses along her jawline. "Stop. We can't." Her words had him pulling away, anguish on his face, a cacophony of thoughts and feelings in his head.

"I know." And he did know. He knew exactly why this was a bad idea, but it didn't stop him wanting it anyway.

"I need to —"

"I know." He pulled her into his chest, holding her as her head fell to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"You sure about that?" she quipped, glancing down at the substantial bulge in his pants. He chuckled, his nose nestling in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. "This feels…"

"Weird?"

"I was going to go with "good"," she chuckled.

"I like it," he said softly.

"Me too." She pulled away to look at him, and the look in his eyes had desire swirling in her belly again. "Stop looking at me like that." The words were a whisper, and he felt his dick twitch in his pants.

"Like what?"

"Like you want to devour me."

"That's _exactly _what I want to do." His eyes were dark, boring into hers in the dim light, his lips twitching like he was trying to stop himself taking another taste of her.

"I have to go." She said eventually, breaking their trance. His eyes shifted but he nodded and she squeezed his hand. "Can I call you later?

"Yes. Please." His voice cracked and she fought to step back, wanting to stay but knowing she had to go.

"I love you, Harvey," she said softly before turning and walking away. He felt his stomach drop at the memory of the last time she'd done exactly that, and his eyes closed against the onslaught of feelings. A moment later she was kissing him again, her lips pressed hard against his before she pulled back and cupped his face. "I'm not running away," she reassured him, her eyes wide and earnest and he nodded.

"I know. I'll talk to you later." He watched as she walked away, the sway in her hips affecting him more than it ever had, his partial erection twitching mournfully, lamenting the immediate loss of any action.

Her knocks at his door later that night didn't come as a surprise, but they did cause his heart to race with anticipation. When the door swung open, she was smiling, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. He cocked his head at her and held out a hand, letting her grasp his palm, drawing strength and comfort from the warmth of his skin.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, but drew her lower lip between her teeth and he knew she wasn't. "C'mere." He tugged her toward him, enveloping her in his arms feeling her body sag against him in relief, and maybe a little sadness.

"That was hard," she said softly, her arms sliding over his back, her palms resting over his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," he replied, turning his face into her hair, breathing her in as he held her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Will that be weird for you?"

"No," he hesitated, "...yes. But I want you to be okay."

"I'm okay," she said softly and he shook his head, breaking their embrace and holding her at arm's length.

"Don't do this to protect my feelings. I don't want that, I want you to be able to talk to me."

"Harvey, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Because you're _here_. And that's…. everything." His final word was on an exhale, his hand trailing the length of her arm before his fingers wound through hers. "Let's talk about it."

He'd led her to the couch and poured her a glass of scotch before sitting alongside her, close enough to show her support and comfort, but not touching. Not until she was ready.

"I did like him," she said eventually. "He was a good guy. And I didn't want to hurt him."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. I didn't just do it for you. I did it for me too. Because I want this. I want _you._"

"Even though you said —"

"I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have said it. It was cruel as well as untrue." The look on her face was pained, and he ached to touch her, to hold her.

"I'm sure he could offer you a lot that I couldn't."

"Maybe." She took a sip from her glass. "But he wasn't you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No… but I could never have loved him fully. He'd have always been overshadowed by you."

"Were you with him…. after I said what I said?" He finally asked the question that had been burning a hole in his brain for days.

"No. I wasn't. He had plans that night anyway."

"What about the other nights?" He hated the jealousy in his voice.

"No," she said softly, her palm on his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "No."

"Is it inappropriate to say I'm glad?"

"Yes," she answered, but his answering frown had her continuing, "but since when have we ever been appropriate?" She grinned at him and he felt it warm his insides as he smiled back.

"True." He looked down at his hands, his thumbs fidgeting. "Where does this leave us?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But you were right earlier. We can't keep pretending we don't feel anything. We've come too far now."

"You said you love me," he stated, eyeing her for her reaction but she was giving nothing away.

"You said the same."

"I know."

"Did you mean it?"

"Of _course _I did." He was affronted by the suggestion. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," she replied, their gaze meeting. They stared at each other for a moment studying one another's faces.

"I guess that a good start then," Harvey said, breaking the silence. Donna nodded, downing the rest of her scotch and setting the glass on the coffee table with a soft clink.

"So," she began, "what do you say we get back to where we were in your office earlier?"

"I don't know if I want to go back to the office at this hour," he mocked and she laughed, slapping his arm lightly.

"Will you shut up and kiss me already?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," He murmured as he closed the gap between them, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth as soon as her lips parted, their kiss passionate and needy; teeth clashing, hands roaming, lips smacking as they let themselves fully give in to everything they'd avoided for fourteen years.

He fisted a handful of her dress, pulling it up and pushing it aside to reach her lace covered centre, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her clit. She moaned into his neck, scraping her teeth across his jugular.

"Fuck," he hissed as he felt how wet she was, "you're _dripping._"

"Oh god, Harvey…" she groaned as he teased her slit with the tips of two fingers. He withdrew his hand and sucked on his fingers, his eyes almost rolling back in his head at the potency of her taste.

"I'm going to need more of that," he stated as he dropped to his knees, shoving fabric out of the way to get his tongue inside her. He lapped at her like he'd been thirsting for her for years, and he had. No other woman had ever tasted this good, especially not for the last fourteen years.

"Shit," she gasped as he sucked her clit into his mouth, a hand fisting in his hair. "Don't stop."

He hummed his approval into her slit and the vibrations sent a shockwave through her, warmth spreading through her lower half as her orgasm began to build.

"Do that again," she demanded, and he did, causing her head to tip back in ecstasy. "Don't stop. Oh _god, _don't stop."

He fucked her with his tongue with vigour, his thumb rubbing her clit as her thighs began to tremble. When she came, everything went rigid and a string of curses and moans fell from her lips as she jerked and convulsed in response to his flicking tongue. He kept working at her, drawing shapes on her pussy with the tip of his tongue until she reached a second orgasm, coming again with a long loud moan, her wetness gushing into his mouth as he sucked on her.

He cleaned her up with gentle licks, bringing her down from her high with tenderness, stroking her thighs softly before moving back up her body to kiss her still-panting mouth.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Mmm hmm," she replied, "more than." She kissed him leisurely, tongues stroking one another. "You're pretty quiet," she said when they parted, a hand on his cheek, thumb moving slowly over his skin.

"My mouth was pretty busy," he quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, the musical sound ringing through the room, delighting all of his senses. He palmed her breast, squeezing through her clothing. "I want to get you naked."

"I'm open to it." She winked and he grinned, his face splitting wide in his joy and her answering grin could have lit the night sky. "What are you waiting for then?"

"Maybe I want to see you undress for me."

"That can be arranged." She stood from the couch, facing him and reaching behind her to unzip her dress, letting it slither down her body until it hit the floor softly, leaving her in nude satin and lace, her breasts pushed together enticingly.

"Jesus," Harvey breathed as his eyes raked over her nearly naked form.

"You like?" She placed her hands on her hips, posing for him as he unbuttoned his shirt and pants. "Stop," she commanded, stepping between his legs and removing his shirt, bending to place kisses over his chest, tongue flicking out to taste his skin as she did so. He reached behind her to unhook her bra, pulling it from her body and sliding it off her arms, thumbing her nipples as she straddled him on the sofa. "Take me to bed," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe.

"No arguments here." He stood, holding her around him, walking her to his bedroom and dropping her on his bed. He watched her get comfortable as he stripped down, letting his cock spring loose for her eager eyes to feast on.

"I want you. _Now." _Her eyes were dark, intent, hungry for him. He crawled along the bed, hooking his fingers into the sides of her thong, pulling it down her legs before tossing it aside and settling his body between her thighs.

"Do we need a condom?" he asked, peppering her face and neck with kisses.

"No," she replied breathlessly, "just fuck me. Please."

He didn't need any more encouragement than that, positioning himself and sliding smoothly into her until her was buried to the hilt, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

"I won't last," her warned as he began to move his hips against her.

"I don't care. We've got the rest of our lives for long, slow sex. Right now, I just need to feel you."

"The rest of our lives, huh?" He nudged her nose with his own, brushing his lips against hers lightly as he moved within her.

"Well, that'll do for a start." She wrapped her arms around his body, holding him to her while they connected in the most intimate of ways - the first of the rest of their lives.

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**A/N: I'm sorry the ending is so cheesy and cringey. I just could not for the life of me get it to end in a way I was happy with - so please don't judge me. I normally try to be better than that!**


End file.
